


Way Down Under the Ground

by PrincessOfTheDark (FantasyPrincess)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: AU, Gen, I'm Sorry, I'm so sorry, Inspired by Hadestown, It's not what you think, No Betas We Fall Like Crowley, Wait For Me, What If the Punishment was so much worse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-24 18:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19729270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasyPrincess/pseuds/PrincessOfTheDark
Summary: When Aziraphale doesn't show up at the end to switch back with Crowley, the Demon just knows something has gone very wrong. It's up to him to go and save his Angel from Hell, but what will be the price?





	1. Road to Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a sad song  
> It's a sad tale, it's a tragedy  
> It's a sad song  
> But we sing it anyway

It had been Aziraphale’s idea. The switch. Afterall, they’d both had ample time to study one another, if there was ever going to be two beings that sacrificed themselves for each other, it was going to be them. The odds, as it were, were in favor of them each surviving the terrible things the other side had concocted, so sacrifice seemed like quite a big word for what they were doing. This was their best, and only, option.

And that’s very close to what they told themselves. What Crowley believed.

Truth be told, the Hellfire hadn’t been that bad, really. It was definitely a hardship staying so calm and reserved in demeanor, and he found that to be the absolute worst. He fantasized about telling Aziraphale how well he did, when on the inside it took everything he had not to lunge for Gabriel’s throat. Still, he’d been dropped back to earth, rather unceremoniously and immediately made his way to the park.

But, Aziraphale was late. Crowley, still looking quite a bit like the Angel in question, was sitting on the bench they’d designated as the “final” rendezvous. If all had gone according to plan, then it shouldn’t have taken this long for Aziraphale to also give them the slip from the Holy Water, which he knew Hastur would insist on as the best “most fitting end” to someone like Crowley.

But still, Aziraphale was late. The Angel is never late. Assuming he left his captors unscathed, he should have been here by now. But he wasn’t here, which meant he wasn’t coming, which meant their ruse was a failure.

Crowley, very silently, and immediately, went into a panic.

He checked only briefly to see if anyone was watching, and then made himself a seam in the fabric of reality, solely to get himself to the Bookshop as fast as possible. No one was there, nor had been there since he left it just one day prior. He repeated the gesture, this time arriving at his apartment. If the ruse was still in place, Aziraphale would have gone to Crowley’s place in an effort to put off suspicion. No one here either.

Crowley panicked even worse, which translated to a very angry looking Aziraphale, as he slammed his hand down on the desk. If the ruse had gone wrong somehow, he didn’t want to let on who he really was. He had to play this carefully, so he retracked his hand and shook it, kissing it better.

“Damnit, where are you,” he said, into the empty space.

*

Aziraphale was not having a good day.

Of all the things that Crowley speculated might happen, Holy Water being at the top of the list, neither of them could have bet on the outcome he found himself in now. They’d been bang on about the Holy Water, but maybe it was the way in which he’d lowered himself down into the tub, as if he knew he’d survive it, that made all the Demons who witnessed it…. antsy…

Aziraphale had made them all look like fools, but when a very frightened Lord Beelzebub had gone to inform Satan, there was a rumble, and, quite immediately, the Demon himself, the Dark King, the OG Fallen One, big bright red and horns aflame, came down into the room.

His breath was steam against Aziraphale, still looking like Crowley, and he put one gigantic eye upon him.

“Well, well, pet,” said the Great and Terrible Dark Lord, “So nice to have you back home, where you belong. You seem to have gained some skill from your time on Earth, but with the matter of your betrayal, conspiring with _them_ ,” and he looked upward, “We can certainly put you to work, especially with such a gift as being able to withstand holy water.”

Lord Beelzebub stammered next to him. “Your disgrace, I don’t know how many will work beside one so changed as this,” the frightened sneer giving away the cool demeanor.

Aziraphale steeled his gaze, as he knew Crowley would, trying to think fast. “Oh Lord, I shall do as Satan commands of me,” he said, celebrating that he was able to keep the waiver from his voice, and he stood up in the bath and bowed low.

Satan escorted him to the edge of a cliff, just outside the office workers and what appeared to be farm hands working fields as much as anything, although the plant life was definitely not what you’d call pleasing to look at, or smell for that matter.

There was a waterfall coming straight up from the night sky and into a pool. On the other side of which was a gemstone. “My Crowley,” Satan voice boomed down at him. “Your task is to create an avenue to retrieving that,” and he pointed at the gem. “It will be long arduous work, but I think you will find it quite rewarding,” and he turned his sneer to Aziraphale, who made another sweeping bow.

“Whatever my lord commands,” he said, but in his head, he was thinking over and over, _Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit…._


	2. Wait for Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You got a lonesome road to walk  
> And it ain't along the railroad tracks  
> It ain't along the blacktop tar you walked a hundred times before  
> I'll tell you where the real road lies  
> Between your ears, behind your eyes  
> That is the path to paradise  
> And likewise the road to ruin

Crowley lit some black and red candles and drew a very intricate design on the concrete floor of his apartment. He was chanting something old, some ancient words he barely remembered. It was almost like when adults try to remember the school yard songs that they sung as children; it was difficult, not impossible.

When he was done setting up, he chanted again, and again. Nothing happened. He put his head in his hands. “That means you are truly lost,” he sighed, trying not to completely give up hope. He always fancied himself a being of hope, even in his darkest moments. And you can rest assured, it did get very dark.

It happened just as he was about to stand. An idea. Some divine memory returning to him about the back way into Hell. It was treacherous, but it was there. He smiled into the middle distance, and decided to pack light. He was going to get his friend.

*

Aziraphale had been working for so many days he’d actually lost track. His instructors were covered, head to foot, in protective gear. The spray from the falls could kill any of them. He was dressed in black sturdy jeans with a black tank top only. He prayed that, should anything take him, let it be the heat and nothing so gruesome as to cause pain. Heat he could deal with, but falling from this height, that was certainly a fate worse than death.

Pick ax in hand, he toiled. First the rocks, then grinding them to sand, then mixing with other liquids he didn’t care to know to make a kind of cement, then laying them down. It was slow work. There was some reason his miracles weren’t working, though he couldn’t fathom why. He also didn’t fully understand why the other demons hadn’t miracle away the leak either, but there was nothing to be done. Whenever one of them tried, it simply sprang up again.

He wiped the sweat from his brow after laying another brick. He didn’t need to sleep, but he longed to be rid of all this grueling work. On top of it all, Satan became a regular, coming down to visit him.

“Crowley,” came his rumbling low tones.

“My darkest of lords,” and he bowed low as he’d seen Crowley do a million times.

“How are you fairing?”

He gave a tired, somewhat sickened smile. “Don’t suppose you could spare me a fan?”

Satan would laugh, and give him a little wave. “Keep up the bad work, Crowley, and you shall be rewarded.”

Aziraphale swallowed. “Thank you, my lord,” and he got back to work. If he ever managed to get out of here, he was going to have to have a long talk with Crowley about why Satan seemed so taken with him.

*

Crowley tripped and fell face first into a puddle of mud. “Well, that’s just, brilliant,” he said, straightening up and attempting to smooth out Aziraphale’s poor dirty vest. He winced, trying to miracle it away, and found he couldn’t. “And there’s another feather in my wing, isn’t it,” he griped to no one in particular.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he slogged further, deeper. Small angry insects buzzed passed his face. He could feel something, almost like branches, moving over his arms and hiss when they cut into him. “Is that _really_ necessary!?” he shouted into the dark.

*

Pick ax, powder, mixing, bricks, pick ax, powder…

Why was he doing this again? Something about falling? Had he fallen? You’d think he remembered falling…

Mixing, bricks, pick ax, powder, mixing…

Whose face was he wearing? It didn’t feel like his face. It kept him safe, he knew that. If only he could remember who’s it was.

Bricks, pick ax, powder…

What was this persons’ name? What was his own name? That’d be nice, to know his own name.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aim for the heart, shoot to kill  
> If you don’t do it then the other one will  
> What you gonna do when the chips are down?  
> Now that the chips are down  
> What you gonna do when the chips are down?  
> Now that the chips are down

Crowley was tired. He’d never known being tired like this. But he couldn’t stop. He had to get to his Angel, he had to know if he was truly gone. No one in all of Hell would have killed him, he wouldn’t dare let him think so. Satan, Satan would have something to say about that, surely. He was so well “loved,” well, in as much as a Demon of Hell could be loved by other demons. But Satan, no they went way back. No way would Satan allow his death… Not permanently anyway.

He finally saw several lights and recognized the guards of the Western Gate, lanterns in hand, asking who it was out there in the Dark.

“My name is Aziraphale, a Principality from on High, and I demand to speak with your… Supervisor.” He smirked at himself in the dark. Might as well play the part for all he’s worth.

“Oi, come up into the light,” said the second Demon.

Crowley climbed, and quite suddenly he was in harsh abrasive lighting. “Hello,” he said politely, as if the lights in his eyes didn’t sting.

“What business ‘ave you ‘ere?” said the third and last Demon, getting a little too close for comfort.

“I’ve come to address the matter of a Demon you’re currently holding,” and he swallowed. “Holding against his will. He’s under my protection and I’ll thank you to return him… please.”

The first Demon was the most reserved of the three, and when the other two looked to him for confirmation, he shrugged. “Who is it?”

“The Demon known as Crowley, I understand he’s been … reassigned, and I must talk to whoever is keeping him here.”

“S’that so?” said the first Demon, arrogantly glaring at him.

“Tis,” said Crowley, unable to help himself. “He’s mine, and I’ve come to collect him.”

“You’ve just earned yourself an audience with the Master than, haven’t you?”

Crowley swallowed and nodded, “If it be Satan himself, then I am obliged to bring it up with him.”

“Very well, follow me,” and off they went. Crowley did his best not to panic. This was going to be a lot harder than he thought.

*

Someone was touching his arm. “Crowley,” the person said, pointedly. “Crowley, it’s me.”

Looking up at that face, that oh so familiar face, with the familiar, but not in the same ways, private little smirk, quite suddenly, Aziraphale could remember who he was. It all came back in a rush and a smile graced his own face, and he dropped his pick ax.

Unable to really fathom what was happening, he abandoned all pretense and jumped into Crowley’s arms, the hug warm and hard and tight. Crowley returned it, and they stood there in each other’s embrace for long moments. “How did you find me?” the Angel practically wept.

“What, like it was hard?” Crowley said, laughing despite himself.

“Hate to break up an intimate moment,” and there it was again, those burning sugary tones of Satan, as he clambered down to watch him, his big face a full two heads taller than either of them, “But what is this about taking away my treasure, like some thief in the night? Has Heaven completely lost it’s collective minds?”

Aziraphale seemed to remember himself and bowed low, reluctantly removing himself from his Demon.

Crowley turned to Satan, adapting again to the stance of Aziraphale when his presence looks to command others. “This is not about Heaven, or your domain.,” he said, his voice strong and true. “This is about my best friend. He belongs with me, where he’s always been. I’ll thank you to release him.”

Aziraphale stared at the floor, unable to do much.

Satan examined him, as a child might examine a beetle. “Who are you to order me around?”

Crowley cocked his head to the side, “It’s not an order, sir. But a request. Of course, I can flex my power, should the need arise, but I’d much rather this went more… pleasantly,” and he let the word hang.

Satan seemed to pull back from him. He must have known Aziraphale was a Principality. It would have been known when he was the Arch-Angel Lucifer. Still, he didn’t seem as impressed as Crowley was hoping for. He thought on it, and then said simply, “Show me what he means to you.”

Crowley hesitated. But when he looked up, at Aziraphale, still wearing his face, looking for all the world like a lost puppy, he smiled, caressing his cheek. He cleared his throat. “Here goes nothing,” he said, and took a deep breath.

“The gray sea and the long black land;

And the yellow half-moon large and low:

And the startled little waves that leap

In fiery ringlets from their sleep

As I gain the cove with pushing prow,

And quench it’s speed i’ the slushy sand.

Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;

Three fields to cross till a farm appears;

A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch

And blue spurt of a lighted match,

And a voice less oud, through joys and fears,

Than the two hearts beating each to each!”

Aziraphale was stunned. That was Robert Browning, one of his favorites. He hadn’t thought Crowley’d been listening, all those night ago. He slumped to his knees and let soft tears fall down his face. Crowley had given him full eye contact the entire time, and now when to stand next to him, letting Aziraphale hold onto one leg and lean. Aziraphale couldn’t look Satan in the face but he just kept shuddering, and letting the love he felt flow from him to Crowley, and when the warm waves crashed on the shore of Crowley’s Aura, a cooling breeze flowed back to Aziraphale, and they smiled at each other.

“That sums up my feelings more than I ever could on my own,” Crowley said.

Satan considered them for a moment, and if Crowley wasn’t mistaken, he could have sworn he say Satan’s eyes water just the slightest. “The last thing I would want is to give up Crowley to … someone like you,” he said, unable to control the disgust in his voice. “And no one escapes Hell once I’ve commanded that they stay.” He brought his face low to gaze at Aziraphale, who did his best to bow low in deference. “But, for one who cares so much for my little pet, I might make an exception.”

“How very wise,” Crowley said, turning to help Aziraphale up.

“Not so fast. It will not be easy. You must prove that you are worthy of him.”

Crowley turned and swallowed. “Worthy, sir?”

“Quite,” said Satan, and grinned at them both.


	4. Doubt Comes In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doubt comes in and all falls silent  
> It's as though you aren't there  
> Where are you? Where are you now?

Crowley gave a miniscule nod, and straightened his vest again. “What is it you need from me?”

Satan considered them. “If you are true, and trusting, and understanding, then all you need do is walk out of here.”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed. “Really?”

“So long as you walk in front, and Crowley walk in back. You cannot call to him. You cannot look back. If you do before you reach the earth, he will be mine once more,” and Satan’s immense hand came to touch Aziraphale gently upon the head. The Angel looked at the Demon, and shuddered.

Crowley swallowed. “Shouldn’t be too hard,” he said, nodding. “I agree to your terms.”

Aziraphale rushed forward. “But that sounds like a very dangerous plan,” he whispered at him.

“Got any better ideas?” Crowley mumbled, and looked him over.

Aziraphale sighed, and took his hand, kissing his palm. “I’ll be there, every step. Trust that I’ll be there and we’ll be fine. I’m only thinking of you, only looking at you. You will guide me out of here, I believe that.”

Crowley took his hand. “I promise you, I’ll get you out.”

Aziraphale bowed to Satan, “Thank you, Dark Lord. For everything.”

Satan smirked, and gave a nod of his head, “We shall see how you do, _Angel_ ,” he said, turning to leave.

*

The walk was harder than either of them had expected.

It was like all the worst parts of the walk there, Crowley thought, doubly without companionship. It was as if he’d never actually made it. As if he was still walking on his own. He couldn’t hear anything except his own breath and he practically pushed through the pain by convincing himself that Aziraphale was with him. There was no proof to confirm, though. There was nothing he could hold onto. No touch, no voice. It was blackness and calling to him. To lose himself, to turn, to make sure the Angel was following him. It took everything.

Aziraphale was panicked behind him, just trying to be as fast as he could but still staying a few steps late. Nothing he could do, except trust that Crowley knew him to be there. Where else would he be? He just wanted to feel the sunlight, and embrace him in the warmth of his love. There was no time for that until they were safe, but he wanted it. Crowley could do this. He’d remembered, just a few short days ago, how he’d threatened never to speak to him again, and he regretted it with each silent step.

Finally, dawn.

They could both see it.

Crowley picked up the pace and made it to the top of the hill.

Aziraphale broke out into a run, he just needed a few more steps, but…

Crowley was looking at him, panting.

He’d turned around too soon, only to see Aziraphale was still in the dark behind him. He let out a shriek, “Aziraphale,” and froze time, just as the ground beneath the angel seemed to sink, pulling him back to Hell.

*

In the white space, the two of them breathed heavily.

The disorientation soon passed and Aziraphale lost all his color. He looked like he was about to be sick. “Why… Why couldn’t you have waited for me …” he was crying, there was nothing to be done about it. He was just suddenly on his knees, coughing and crying, his wings huddled around him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I missed you too much,” Crowley said as he came to hold onto him.

“That’s it…” Aziraphale said, “It’s all over.”

Crowley ached all over, knowing he’d doomed them, knowing what he’d have to do now. “No,” Crowley answered, “I promised that I would get you out…” and he grabbed Aziraphale’s arm.

Aziraphale felt light-headed, “Wait,” but it was already happening.

The disguise they’d both been wearing faded away, and Crowley, looking like himself, pulled Aziraphale, looking like himself, to his feet.

“I love you, Aziraphale. I always have,” and Crowley touched his face.

Aziraphale blinked at him. His eyes watering before he could stop them. “And I you,” he said, after what felt like an eternity in the timeless space. “What now?”

Crowley smiled. “You go and live your life, live every day, and I’ll think of you always, Angel,” and softly, gently, they kissed.

Aziraphale tried to catch Crowley’s eyes, but he wouldn’t hold his gaze, “What are you –“

Crowley snapped his fingers.

Suddenly the world was back, and time restored.

Aziraphale was on at the peak of the hill where Crowley had been. He breathed in a big lung full of fresh clean air, and sighed. “Crowley, you did it!” and when he turned, he saw Crowley smile, put on his shades with a little wave, and disappear, downwards, back down to Hell.


End file.
